


A Better Way to Keep Warm

by Saesama



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: First Time, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Sharing Body Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-15
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-07 17:33:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3177703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saesama/pseuds/Saesama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or, that one time Thrall kept his tropical friend from freezing to death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Better Way to Keep Warm

Thrall took a deep, bracing breath of air and looked around the camp one last time before night fell. The currents churned up by the Maelstrom, combined with a heavy storm from the south, had driven their ships far further north than they had intended. They had made camp on a northern coast lined with trees and tall cliffs, the ships pulled into a natural bay to ease repairs. Spring would be soon, he could feel it in his feet and lungs, but for now a deep chill sat on the land, and the snowdrifts of a long winter still hid the ground in most places.

He was pleased to see the long, lanky forms of the trolls spread among the orcs in the camp. The trolls had been boon companions for the second half of their journey across the ocean, if for no other reason than they were far better fishers than the orcs would ever be. They had taken to the tasks of a ship eagerly and well, and not even Grom could complain about their gratitude-sparked drive. 

The trolls took less well to the cold weather. Their tribe was a tropical one, originally hailing from the deep jungles of Stranglethorn, and the cold had them ill at ease. The cold wouldn't kill the hardy people, assuming a freak spring blizzard didn't hit, but they would need time to acclimate. Grom did complain about that, in low grumbling tones, but Thrall had silenced him by pointing out that instead of complaining, the trolls had taken to quick, efficient preparation of every hide the hunters brought in, supplanting the leathers with woven barks and reeds dug from the water's edge. These were not their home lands but some things worked everywhere, and even some of the orcs wore troll-made armor to replace lost pieces.

A nearby guard, a troll piled to the chin in the torn remnants of a sail, turned to Thrall and sketched an elbow-filled salute. Thrall grinned and returned the salute, and the troll went back to her watch, shivering but bright-eyed and alert, and if Grom complained about _that,_ Thrall was going to encase the old orc's feet in a block of ice.

Satisfied, Thrall ducked into his small two-man tent, and immediately had to suppress a smile. Vol'jin sat on his reed mat on his side of the tent, his too-long legs pulled up to his chest and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He looked miserable, like a child dumped unwilling into a snow bank, and he was practically sitting on the low brazier at the foot of the two beds.

Amusement turned to exasperation when Thrall realized that the blanket around Vol'jin was the only one the troll had, and he sighed through his nose. "I know you've been receiving your fair share of furs," he said patiently. "Where did they go?"

"Murlocs got 'em." Vol'jin was learning orcish at an incredible speed, but it was still pretty terrible, and with the way he was shivering, Thrall could barely understand him. "Ate 'em up."

"Vol'jin."

"Gave 'em to Shokka."

An orc? How odd. "Shokka has her own furs."

"She wit child."

Ah. "How noble of you." Vol'jin's eyes narrowed and Thrall lifted his brow pointedly. "Will that nobility keep you warm tonight?"

Vol'jin huffed and pulled his blanket in tighter. "I live," he said petulantly.

Thrall had to remind himself, sometimes, that Vol'jin was young, even younger than he was, too young to lead an entire tribe or clan. None of the trolls were very specific about what Vol'jin had done to earn their respect, except that he was 'Sen'jin's son' - understandable - and a 'Shadow Hunter' - unknown, but to most of the trolls, the more important fact. But despite whatever importance such a title held, Vol'jin was barely an adult and thus full of bravado and that special brand of well-intentioned martyrdom belonging only to the young.

A tiny voice that sounded a lot like Orgrim whispered that he recognized these traits in Vol'jin because he saw them in himself as well. Thrall ignored it.

"In that case," Thrall said firmly. "I'm not going to have the leader of my newest allies shiver to death three feet away from me. We're bunking together; get up and let me remake the bed."

Vol'jin glared at him as if he'd suggested the troll go sleep in the tide waters. "I _live_ ," he growled. "Don' need orc heat."

"You're already shivering and the sun is barely down," Thrall pointed out. "And if I give you my furs, you'll sneak off and give them to the next watch you hear complaining and then we'll both be cold. My only other choice is to turn up the brazier to the point that the tent lights on fire. Get up."

Vol'jin gave him a baleful look and unfolded from his mat. Thrall kicked his own bed to the side while Vol'jin crouched on the other side of the brazier, and the troll offered no protest when Thrall dragged the reed mat to the center of the tent.

Thrall would have done the same for any idiot friend, but as realization of what was going to happen set in, it brought with it a voice of panic entirely his own. He built up the bed on top of the mat and he knew he was playing with fire, except the spark was Vol'jin's proximity, and the kindling was his own growing and fiercely hidden admiration for the troll. _I'd do the same for anyone_ , he reminded himself. _And I didn't ask to bed the stubborn blockhead, only to share warmth. This isn't some tawdry human romance._

Latching onto the thought, he finished piling up the furs for two vice one, and he held out his hand to Vol'jin for the blanket. Vol'jin muttered something vile but handed it over and Thrall spread it over top to hold everything down. Satisfied, Thrall began to strip down his armor to his thin underclothes. Intent on the task, he almost didn't look at Vol'jin as the troll slipped past him to crawl beneath the furs. But he glanced up at the last moment, and saw that Vol'jin was wearing nothing save a linen wrap low around his hips.

Panic again, and Thrall wanted to get dressed again and go out to relieve someone of their watch. Vol'jin nearly always wore an impressive set of banded leather and wooden armor, and troll clothing typically showed a lot of skin - or rather, fur. But this was different, a deliberate vulnerability that made Thrall's gut clench. 

_He's not doing this for your enjoyment,_ and the thought was a sobering one. He was being shameful. Thrall's admiration - and, okay, he could admit it to himself, his desire for the troll aside, Vol'jin was an ally and a growing friend, one who had given no indication of interest in him. Taking a tight rein on his wayward thoughts, Thrall eased beneath the furs himself. Vol'jin was curled into a tight ball with his back to the center, and Thrall didn't look too deeply at pressing their shoulders together; he would have done that with anyone, on a night as cold as this. And it was worth it, when Vol'jin's obvious shivering started to ease. 

Not quite relaxed but feeling better about the whole thing, Thrall hitched the blankets up to his chin and made a pinching motion above his head. The lantern went out, and Vol'jin snorted. "Show-off."

o o o

Thrall awoke, far warmer than he'd been when he fell asleep. His face was cold, exposed to the night air and it felt like the brazier had died, but the rest of him was warm, wrapped in furs and a strong arm, with a narrow hand pressed to his ribs and _what the hell-_

Thrall was immediately very, very awake.

Vol'jin had rolled over some time in the night and Thrall was wrapped in nearly ten feet of gangly teenaged troll. Vol'jin's chin rested on top of his head and Vol'jin's arm wrapped around his middle and Vol'jin's hips pressed against his ass and, oh, this was _bad._ Because Vol'jin felt damned good and it was late and cold and Thrall couldn't convince himself to wake Vol'jin up enough to roll him back over. As if he heard Thrall's thoughts, Vol'jin's arm tightened and he wasn't quite cuddling him but it was close.

Thrall's head was somehow pillowed on Vol'jin's bicep. They absolutely were cuddling and Thrall shoved down a wave of panic as hard as he shoved away the thought that they fit well against each other.

Maybe he should just go back to sleep. He curled in a bit to try and get his cold nose under the furs, but the movement made him even more aware of the fact that Vol'jin was pressed against him from the shoulders down. His own shirt and pants were thin, and Vol'jin was only wearing that damn wrap, and Thrall could almost imagine he felt-

_No_. He would not go that route.

Except. He wasn't imagining it. Vol'jin shifted minutely closer, and Thrall could feel a warm, heavy press against his ass. Vol'jin was. He. Thrall nearly choked. And the thrill that went through him made him wish the troll would wake up, to roll over or pull him in or slit his throat or something, anything would be better than lying here like this.

Wrestling with his conflicted conscience, Thrall nearly missed the almost-inaudible sigh from above. Strained nerves nearly snapped. What if Vol'jin _did_ wake up? What if their growing friendship was ruined? What if-

"I be a fool."

Zandali, words Thrall barely grasped and barely heard; had he been asleep, they would have been missed completely. Vol'jin's arm tightened for a brief moment then released as the troll drew back, slow and careful. "Not like you be interested." Again, Zandali, and Thrall was certain he was mis-translating. But he'd always had a good ear for languages, and even a faulty translation couldn't disguise the rueful, self-depreciating tone Vol'jin used.

Vol'jin's hand hesitated a moment on Thrall's side and Thrall grabbed his wrist. "What if I am interested?" he asked quietly.

Vol'jin didn't move for a long moment. "How long you be awake?" he asked finally.

"Long enough." Thrall looked up and back, though all he could see in the dark was the pale gleam of Vol'jin's tusk. "Are we going to be idiots about this, or adults?"

"Idiots any day." Thrall's brief drop of disappointment was halted by Vol'jin sliding up behind him again. "Idiots be way more fun."

Thrall took a slow breath as Vol'jin's half-hard cock pressed against him again, deliberate this time. "This is phenomenally stupid," he agreed, pressing back against the heavy heat. "Don't stop." Vol'jin's hips rolled languidly and Thrall bit his lip to suppress his moan. He wished desperately that it wasn't so cold, that they could have room to maneuver without risking frostbite somewhere tender. This was still good, though, and he reached down to palm his own cock.

Vol'jin snarled like a beast, then pulled away to yank Thrall's pants down his legs. Thrall nearly protested but Vol'jin was back in a moment, his cock sliding between Thrall's thighs, slick with precome. Thrall clamped his legs together and fisted his cock in time with Vol'jin's slow thrusts, panting against Vol'jin's arm. 

Vol'jin's hand slid from Thrall's chest to between his legs, the base of his palm hard against the base of Thrall's cock and his fingers teasing further back. Thrall nearly bit Vol'jin's bicep to muffle his moan. It was almost too hot, with two writhing bodies in the small bed, and they risked having to crawl into the cold to reset the dislodged furs, but none of that mattered now, not with Vol'jin moving faster, his breath a constant growl against Thrall's hair and his hips snapping hard against Thrall's ass.

Vol'jin angled his head to bite at Thrall's ear, his tusk curled around Thrall's throat and Thrall was lost. His hand and breath stuttered as he came, curses lodged in his throat and his own tusk scraped a shallow wound across Vol'jin's arm when his jaw clenched. Vol'jin swore in Zandali and followed him after a few more frantic thrusts.

They lay there for a moment, trying to catch their breath, until Thrall huffed a short laugh. "There's less tiring ways to warm up," he pointed out.

Vol'jin made a rude noise and shuffled around for a brief moment. Thrall jumped when Vol'jin's hand curled over his cock again, this time with the linen wrap to clean him. "It be stupid late," Vol'jin grumbled, shoving the soiled cloth out of their now-sweltering nest. "And I be warm for the first time since home. You wake me early, I gonna have orc fingers for breakfast."

Thrall rolled his eyes and took the hand resting on his hip to draw Vol'jin's arm properly around his waist. "Your pillow talk needs work," he said, patting the hand now resting on his stomach.

"What be a pillow?"

"Tell you tomorrow." Content for the first time in a while, Thrall fell back asleep.


End file.
